Crescendo
by champagne-and-razor-blades
Summary: I know it's not right, and I know it's not enough, but I need this, and so do you. Castle and Beckett's pent up emotions finally get the better of them.


This isn't happening in any of the ways she's imagined it.

That's all she can think as they stumble through the door, and she considers saying it out loud, but that would mean admitting that she's imagined this happening in multiple different ways, and besides, her mouth is busy sucking on Castle's earlobe.

She's not even sure how this happened, who touched who first, but it had been a terrifying case which had involved both of them with guns pressed against their temples. The coals had been smouldering for weeks. All they'd needed was a little stoking, a little more _heat_, and somehow both of them had become engulfed in flames. Desperate flames that were licking low in her belly, smouldering across her spine, spidering over her skin wherever his hands touched.

Beckett gasps against him as his hands slide down to squeeze her ass, she delivers a bite to his ear and licks a trail down the salty jut of his jawline. She's blind, deaf, all she can do is feel him against her and it's not right, not now, not yet, but, God, she can't stop.

They are a wildfire burning through the night and they are unstoppable.

She can't wait any longer, tears the two halves of his shirt apart, half-hearing the sound of buttons clattering on the floor but ignoring it because his bare chest is silken under her hands. His heart thumps under her hands, frantic, like hers is, and she wants her heart beating against his. Beckett rips her own shirt off, not knowing or caring where it lands. Castle lifts her then, pressing her against the wall. Her legs open, let him in, then lock around his waist with her heels pressing into his thighs and then- ohhhh he's pressed against her right where it matters.

She rolls her hips, blindly fumbling with his belt as he clumsily slides her pants down her legs without letting go of her. He's rasping his teeth over the tendons of her neck now, little rough nips that send ripples of pleasure through her body, desperate to touch her anywhere but her mouth because it's an unspoken agreement that no matter what else they do, they are not kissing tonight.

Saving the kisses for when it's right.

Right now it is so **wrong**, but it's a good kind of wrong, she thinks, and he must think so too because their pants are puddled on the floor and she can very, very clearly feel how much he wants this because there isn't exactly much between them right now.

His head dips lower, one-handedly unhooking her bra and flinging it into the void where all their clothes appear to be disappearing. She has something to say but then his mouth latches onto her nipple and _sucks _and her mind is wiped blank of anything but his mouth and his name. Beckett trails her fingers over his stomach, feeling the muscles bunch and jump under her touch.

Then his hand is somehow between her legs, thumb rasping over her clit through the cotton of her underwear (plain cotton, because she absolutely did _not _plan for this to happen.) and she forgets how to think. He is circling a maddening pattern and his fucking mouth is around her breast and it's all she can do to remember how to breathe, let alone tell him what she wants, but he seems to understand because her panties are pushed aside in a matter of seconds and _ohhhh god his fingers._

Beckett chokes out a noise that she knows he would describe as _mewling_ and maybe it is, but she doesn't care, just pushes her hips further towards him and squeezes her eyes shut because she is seriously this close to coming. It's sort of embarrsing, how quick this is going to be, but this is Castle and she's been hot for him for years. She is absolutely going to refuse to come without him there with her, though, so she awkwardly slides his boxers down his legs in an attempt to make her intentions perfectly, perfectly clear.

His eyes snap up to meet hers, and, although she would deny it later, in the moment she would swear on her life that she almost drowned in his eyes.

He asks permission with a curl of his brow, a softening of his pupils around the edges, and she replies with nails scratched down his chest.

_I know it's not right, and I know it's not enough, but I need this, and so do you._

They agree without speaking, and the moment is over as quickly as it started because he slides into her slick warmth unexpectedly and she feels like she is going to combust. Beckett's entire universe centers down to the pinpoints of pleasure that are gradually growing, melting, spreading, all over her body, and when they engulf her it is going to be heavenly. He is setting a fast pace, not being gentle at all, and it hurts just a little bit (he's bigger than she'd imagined... not that she'd imagined it. much.) but it is the best kind of pain imaginable.

The kind of pain that makes her fist one hand in his hair, grind her hips against his and stroke her other hand down the sweat-slicked planes of his back. That kind of pain. Castle hoists her up on the wall, pushes her then pins her there, and with the change of angle he hits a sweet, forbidden place deep, deep, deep inside of her and there are starbursts on the insides of her eyelids.

She is so, so, t_oo_ close, and so is he, she can taste it touch it smell it feel it, just a little bit more...

His hand snakes its way between their bodies, down, down, to circle roughly around her clit the way he was before, only now he is pressing harder and harder, rubbing faster and faster as he thrusts deeper and deeper...

She shatters around him all at once, helplessly biting down on his shoulder in an attempt to stifle the noises that are tearing themselves unbidden from her mouth. He follows, just like she knew he would, rocking against her, into her, and they are a crescendo of broken ecstacy, a symphony in the smoggy night. Beckett's orgasm lasts longer than she'd anticipated, tremor after tremor rocking through her until finally she stills, an "I love you" caught in the back of her throat. She unlocks her legs from around his waist, slides down the wall.

Both of them are panting raggedly, soaked with sweat.

He risks a glance at her in the half-light and she meets his eyes, offers a tentative half-smile.

Neither of them are really sure where to go from here, but she's not leaving, and even if she tried to, he's not letting her.

* * *

><p>They are spooning on top of his warm sheets, completely, blissfully naked.<p>

It hadn't started that way; they had been lying on seperate sides of the bed, feeling awkward and guilty, but as they night drew on they had gravitated towards each other and finally she had been unable to resist snuggling up to him.

She isn't sure what is going to happen from here, but the fact that they are curled around each other with her naked chest pressed into his back suggests that they might survive this.

"Castle?" she murmurs, nuzzling against the warmth of his neck.

"Yeah?" he replies, husky, a total bedroom voice that would make her toes curl if she wasn't so tired.

"We'll be okay? In the morning?" Beckett feels the relief that she asked thread through him, feels the muscles in his back relax against her.

"I think so. Yeah, I think so. I think we'll always be okay." She leans over him in the dark, clumsily finds his mouth with hers. It's awkward and fumbling but oh-so-sweet, and she tries to convey all her affection into the gesture. It doesn't work, of course. One kiss could never even come close to containing that much emotion, but it's a start.

"That should have been our first kiss." he mumbles into her neck, twisting around so they are holding each other, limbs trapped in between their bodies.

"More to come, Castle. Promise?"

"Promise." he sighs, and they drift into sleep.


End file.
